


How Could You?

by laura_ann



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: AHAHAHA, Dream Smp, I'm Sorry, M/M, Minor Character Death, Morally Ambiguous Character, Poor George, Serial Killer Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), get it cause Tommy’s a minor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:13:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28311423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laura_ann/pseuds/laura_ann
Summary: “Whose blood is on your axe?”“Does it really matter as long as it isn’t yours?”
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 51
Kudos: 238





	How Could You?

**Author's Note:**

> I never thought I’d be reading dnf let alone WRITING it. Alas here we are,
> 
> I hope you like it!

George clears his place at the dinner table grabbing the knife, fork, and plate over to the sink. He turns the handle gently watching the water pour out of the nozzle almost mesmerizingly. He feels himself going insane. It’s been so lonely lately.

George grabs the sponge resting on the edge of the sink, squirting soap on it to vigorously rub it against the dishware. He can feel the phantom touch of the warm hands that would usually rest against his waist.

Every bit of the day has gapes in it. Gapes normally filled with Dream. 

George huffs scrubbing harsher against the plate in his hand. He grips it harshly feeling the porcelain shake. George wouldn’t consider himself the needy one in his relationship but after being suddenly dethroned, shoved to the side, and then immediately ignored by his lover for days, one might be a little upset.

George sighs grabbing a rag to dry everything off. He fiddles with the fabric in his hands. He can hear the promises echoing in his head,

 _“Don’t worry I’ll be back soon.”_  
_“Promise to wait for me, yeah? _  
_“See you soon love.” _ ______

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George huffs throwing the rag to the side on the counter. He makes his way back to the kitchen table. He throws himself into the chair, crossing his arms while glaring at nothing in particular. _See you soon my ass. _It’s been weeks since he’s seen Dream. He’d been so worried he went to Tubbo.__

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George’s expression softens at remembering the encounter. He had no one else to go to. Sapnap was no help other than keeping him company, Quackity knew nothing and George really didn’t feel like speaking to anyone else. So he went to Tubbo, the current president.

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He’ll never forget the boy’s face when he opened the door to the President’s office. Instead of the happy at ease boy he’s grown to know he was met with a scared child. Hair mussed as if it hadn’t been washed in weeks. Red rimmed eyes with bags underneath dark enough to mirror the nether. He looked awful.

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George had stood in the doorway stunned. He considered simply closing the door and leaving until Tubbo looked up to him making eye contact. Everyone knew the President was a child but in that moment George had never seen him look more helpless.

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Tubbo cleared his throat. George winced cringing at the action.

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Tubbo croaked more than spoke. He gestured George to enter the room. George did so reluctantly. 

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“How can I help you George?”

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George couldn’t help but think _he _should be asking what he can do for Tubbo. Pushing away his initial mission George sat down at the chair in front of Tubbo’s desk. He scoot forward. He looked worriedly at the boy, “Tubbo are you okay?”__

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Tubbo sighed letting his face fall into his hands hiding from the outside world. George sat there awkwardly unsure what to do. Tubbo grumbled, “No I’m really not okay.” 

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Tubbo looked up at George’s concerned face. He blinked tiredly, “But that really doesn’t matter.”

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George restrained himself from reaching out to concile the boy. “You know Tubbo, we’re here for you.”

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Tubbo sighed looking away, “Well that’s the problem, he’s not here.”

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George smiled lightly, he could sympathize with the pain. “That’s actually why I came.”

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Tubbo’s eyes darted up to his for the first time in the conversation. Frantic brown eyes met an equally distraught pair to match.

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Tubbo scrunched his eyebrows in confusion waiting for George to speak.

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George bit his lip debating if it was really the right thing to say at the moment. _‘Hey, I can see you’re really fucking depressed that your best friend is gone but by the way have you seen my boyfriend? Ya know, the one that got him banished?’ ___

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George bit the bullet hoping Tubbo wouldn’t crumble, “I.. I’m looking for Dream. He said he’d be back soon but it’s been weeks.”

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Tubbo’s eyes narrowed. The energy in the room became unbearably tense. 

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George faltered slightly. Tubbo clenched his hands on the surface of the desk. “Your boyfriend has been monitoring the current threat to L’manburg.”

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The words are unsaid as to who the threat is but they both knew the answer.

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George felt his mouth go dry. A simple, “Ah” is all he could mutter.

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Tubbo looked up at him. Really looked at George. In a way he could see himself. A similar pain. His shoulders relaxed slightly. He forced a small smile on his face, “I’m sure he’ll be back home soon George. If he stops by I’ll send him right home.”

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George smiled in appreciation. He got off his seat. “Thank you so much, Tubbo.” It wasn’t much new information but the confirmation as to what his boyfriend was up to put him at slight ease.

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Looking back at Tubbo, George felt himself stop from heading out the door. He’d never been the most sociable person but he’s not a monster. He slowly opened his arms in a hug like gesture. Feeling sweat gather at his neck he bit his lip anxiously, “I know somewhat what it’s like to go so long without someone you care about. So if you want I can give you....a hug?”

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George chuckled nervously, “I’m not very good at the whole comf-“

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He was cut off as a body slammed into his. George’s eyes widened at the weight. Gradually he smiled hugging the other tightly in return.

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Tubbo held onto him for dear life. George winced, it felt like his ribs were about to crack.

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Tubbo broke out of the hug smiling tearily. He wiped his face, “Thanks Gogy.”

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George pat his shoulder smiling, “Any time.”

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And with that he had left heading home. 

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George gazes out the window watching the rain encase the world. He really hopes Tubbo is holding up better than he is.

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The noise of the gate creaking open jolts George awake. He rushes over to the window pulling aside the curtain. He squints, eyes meet with pouring rain and ebbing darkness making it nearly impossible to see anything. However he catches the shape of a dark silhouette closing the gate. A very familiar silhouette.

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George’s breath gets caught in his throat. He feels himself grow giddy. Dream’s finally home!

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He rushes towards the front door waiting in front of it expectantly. It had felt as if this day would never come.

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The footsteps are loud and the knocks are heavy. Each knock against the door feels like an electric shock straight to his heart.

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He closes his eyes reaching for the doorknob. He can finally be held, comforted, hugged, loved.

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He opens his eyes throwing the door wide open. The sight in front of him is nothing like he imagined. 

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Dream stands tall, intimidatingly. His white mask is shifted off center to the right. It unveils a small slither of skin covered in freckles. Even more unsettling then the dead smile on the mask is the blood that accompanies it. 

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George’s eyes rave along Dream’s form inspecting him. There’s so much of it. So much blood that Dream’s green hoodie appears like a black blob in George’s colorblind vision.

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Looking at Dream’s hand he watches fresh blood drop from the blade of the axe onto their doorstep creating a small pool. 

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George can’t believe the fingers gripping the axe are the same that gently caress his face.

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The moment seems to last forever.

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The mask fully slides off Dream’s face as he walks into their home. An unhinged but loving expression rests on his face, “Hi babe.”

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George stumbles back. He bumps into the table staring terrified at Dream.

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Dream frowns. He throws off his boots and closes the door. Turning back around he’s surprised to see George still there unmoving.

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Dream sighs brushing a bloodied hand through his hair. George watches the motion like a hawk, eyes lingering on the blond strands now streaked red.

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“I know I’m a bit of a mess but you could at least act happy to see me,” Dream grins.

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George says nothing in return. Frozen.

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Dream’s grin falters. He goes to step towards George but is met with a pale shaky hand pointed downward. Confused, Dream follows the direction. Being met with the sight of his axe he clicks his tongue in annoyance.

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He flips it once. “Look it’s really nothing. I can just wash it off out back I-“

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George cuts him off. He’s out of breath. His finger remains pointing. “Whose.” He inhales sharply, “Whose blood is on your axe?”

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Dream glances down at said bloodied axe again before looking at George grinning. He quickly moves forward encasing George against the table. He pins George’s wrists against the table. So tiny compared to his own. 

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George blushes at the position but stands his ground glaring.

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Dream’s grin is wolfish as he takes in the defiance displayed. It’s amusing because he can see every crack in it uncovering the true emotion underneath. Pure unadulterated fear.

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Dream licks his lips. He leans forward. Dream’s breath is hot against George’s ear as he whispers, “Does it really matter as long as it isn’t yours?”

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George tenses under him. Dream watches him with hooded eyes. George clenches his teeth not daring to look away. “Drop the axe Dream.”

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Dream chuckles pushing against George’s wrists tighter. Said man whimpers in pain, that will surely leave bruises in the morning. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed Georgie but I really don’t think you’re in the position to be making demands.”

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George’s expression shifts from defiance to helplessness in a flash. An almost involuntary pout overcomes his face. He mumbles weakly, “Dream, you’re hurting me.”

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Dream falters. He quickly lets go of George’s wrists. A realization wipes over his eyes. The axe makes a clanging noise as it hits the ground.

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George breathes heavily clutching his now reddened wrist to his chest. Dream reaches forward hesitantly as if he’s afraid to startle a doe. “George I, I’m so sorry I didn’t.”

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George glares half heartedly at him. “Save it Dream.”

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Dream stands frozen completely unfamiliar with the situation.

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George spits out the words, “I’ll ask you one more time. Whose blood.” He thrusts his hand at the axe laying uselessly on the ground, “is on that axe.”

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Dream crosses his arms in annoyance, “If I tell you will you stop with whatever” he gestures his hand up and down, “ _this _is”.__

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George huffs in anger. His voice rises, “ _This _is a normal reaction to someone dragging in a fucking bloodied axe!”__

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Dream’s glare hardens. He picks up the axe and holds it in front of his face looking at the drying blood. He hums.

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George watches glancing between the axe in his boyfriend’s hands and the door behind him. Every fiber of his being is telling him to run. But George stays, eyes fixed on Dream.

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Dream’s eyes dart away from the axe to meet George. His eyes are haunting. “It’s Tommy’s.”

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George feels himself start to hyperventilate, “It’s...” His knees feel weak. “What do you mean it’s Tommy’s?” George looks around frantically, “Where is he?”

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Dream smiles fondly. He drops the axe and walks confidently up to George’s shaking form. “Oh honey, he’s gone.”

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George looks up at him eyes widening, “What do you mean he’s gone?” Dream simply continues to look down at him smiling. George knows the answer.

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His knees finally give out but Dream is there to catch him. Strong hands grip his waist keeping him from falling. His face is pushed into a hard chest. George mumbles into it crying, “He was just... he was just a child”.

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George sniffles clutching Dream’s hoodie tightly, “How could you?”

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Dream remains silent. He puts an arm under George’s shoulder and another under George’s legs. He hauls George up into bridal position. George can’t find it in him to fight as his head lulls against Dream’s chest. He has to be lying, right? This is Dream he’s talking about. The Dream that would do anything for those he loved, the loyal, tea kettle laughing goofball he fell in love with. There’s no way he could have actually killed Tommy. 

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George looks up at Dream through the tears warbling his vision. “Please, please tell me you’re joking.”

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The hands on him tighten and George instantly knows the answer. 

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It’s a silent walk as Dream heads them towards the bedroom. He places George down like he’ll evaporate at the smallest jolt.

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Laying down on the bed George stares at his hands holding them close to his face. The same hands that held Tubbo in embrace have embraced with Tommy’s murderer.

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George’s breath is labored. The bed dips as Dream sits. He hovers over George. His fingers comb hair out of George’s face. He smiles rubbing George’s scalp lovingly.

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George wants to melt into the mattress and disappear. “Everything’s going to be fine love,” Dream continues stroking George’s hair, “we’re safe now.”

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The words play over and over again.

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_“We’re safe now.”_

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_“We’re safe now.” ___

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_“We’re safe now.” ___

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George’s face scrunches up in confusion. Safe from what exactly? Tommy was never that much of a threat. And looking up at Dream it’s clear that statement rings true.

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George reaches up stopping the hand making motions through his hair. He pulls it towards his cheek for some twisted sort of semblance. Dream watches him quietly, smiling softly. George frowns leaning into the touch, “Who’s next?”

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Dream’s smile twists into a frown. The hand against George’s cheek stiffens. George gulps looking directly intro Dream’s green eyes. “Am I next?”

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A switch is flipped. In mere seconds Dream is on top of him hovering over his face. George blinks in surprise staring at the green eyes a mere inch from his face.

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The tingling feeling of hands tightening around his sides pulse through his body. He hates that even in this situation he’s excited by Dream’s touch.

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George tries to shift slightly but it’s no use. He goes to speak opening his mouth. Dream dives down slamming their mouths together. George gasps closing his eyes. Now’s not the time. He tries to push Dream away shoving at his shoulders but the man is like pure stone, unmoving.

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George feels his hands fall down onto the mattress. As Dream deepens the kiss George’s head feels foggy.

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Dream pulls away looking at George’s haze filled eyes and red bitten lips. “You’re beautiful”

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George frowns. Dream grabs his chin making George look at him. Dream stares at him intensely, “It will never be you. I will never hurt you.” He breathes shakily smiling, “You’re my everything.”

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The words shouldn’t do what they do to George’s heart. His heart shouldn’t be fluttering at the words of a murderer.

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Caught up in his thoughts all George can do is whisper, “Fuck.”

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Dream looks down at him. A large smirk takes over his face. He wiggles his eyebrows, “Oh, do you want to?” His tone is teasing.

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It’s such a mundane Dream like comment that George is almost naive enough to think everything’s normal. 

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A broken laugh leaves George’s lips.

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Dream assesses him. Concluding George wouldn’t be going anywhere anytime soon he carefully manevours himself off the bed. George listens to him shuck off the bloodied clothes onto the floor. Dream walks over to his side. He leans over placing a gentle kiss on George’s cheek. “I’m gonna get a shower real quick.”

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George doesn’t respond. He lays motionless staring at the ceiling. Dream finds him in the same state after exiting the shower with freshly damp hair. He frowns in concern at his lover. He quickly throws on some sweat pants and a clean hoodie. He crawls onto their bed.

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He reaches out with gentle fingers lifting George. No reaction is given.

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Dream places George so his legs are intertwined with his and George’s head is against his heart. The steady thumping of his heart soothes George into a false sense of comfort.

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Dream rubs his back lovingly, “I love you. You still love me right?”

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It’s the first thing to get a reaction out of George. George’s legs tighten and he finds himself pushing his head against Dream’s chest attempting to get impossibly closer to his heart. He wants to curse Dream out. Tell him he’s a monster. A murderer. That he should rot in hell. But...should he rot in hell too? Is he a monster by loving the one next to him?

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George shifts his body closer, “Of course I do.”

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Dream tries to hide the relief that goes through his entire body but George picks up on it. “I’ll always love you Dream.”

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Dream kisses the top of his head.

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George whispers to himself quietly so only he is able to hear it, “even if it makes me a monster.”

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**Author's Note:**

> Apologies for any typos or grammar mistakes. I wrote this at 2am....  
> WELP I hope you liked it :)


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